The End Is Only the Beginning
by Becca Stareyes
Summary: Zelgadis Greywords has finally found his cure... waitasec, in the beginning of the fic? He can't do that, can he? Zel quickly learns that being a chimera wasn't the curse he had thought, and that his curse might be over, but his search isn't.


The End Is Only The Begining  
**Chapter 1 **

The passage suddenly widened into a cave and Zel willed his light spell ahead and above him to get a measure of the place. He was standing on a precipice with a five-meter drop to an underground lake below. The cave itself was about the size of a large room, with the standard stalactites on the ceiling and the obligatory bioluminescent fungus growing on the walls, should any party of adventurers _not_ equipped with a light spell wander in. 

Zel moved his light lower, trying to get a better look at the water. It was deep -- he couldn't see the bottom, nor any jagged rocks hidden below the water level. Glints of light from his spell reflected off of the water and onto the cave walls, giving the entire place an eerie, surreal feel. _You could almost taste the magic in the air_, Zel thought. 

Well, the villagers _did_ swear by the streams that flowed down from these mountains. All sorts of miraculous cures were reported from the waters, so the source had to be even more potent than the runoff. Didn't it? 

_Who am I kidding?_ Zel snorted in disgust at the direction his line of thought had taken. It was probably another hoax to bring in the gullible. And, damned if he didn't keep falling for those hoaxes every time. Whenever he tried to turn away, a little voice sounded in the back of his head. What if this was the one? What if he turned his back on his one chance? 

Well, regardless, he was here now, and he might as well check it out. The worst that could happen was that he could have a bath without explaining to a skittish bathhouse attendant that, no, he _wasn't_ here to loot, rape, and/or murder the other patrons, he just wanted to get clean, thank you very much. 

Zel stripped and placed his clothing in his traveling bag. The cave floor was damp and there was no sense getting his clothing wet and dirty. Careful inspection of the chamber wall produced a series of foot and hand holds chiseled into the rock. It would be slow going, but he thought he could manage on the precarious and slippery rocks. And, with any luck, the crevasses didn't end at the surface of the water -- if the pool was as deep as it looked from above, he would be unable to keep his head above water and his feet on solid ground without footing on the wall. 

Zel had managed to climb part way down when he felt the stone give way under his foot as he had lifted the other to find the next foothold. Holding on with arms only, Zel flailed his legs, searching for something -- anything -- he could rest them on. _If I fall, I'll sink. I should have cast Raywing to get down._ He felt his fingers slipping, and, with a curse, he felt them give way and he fell into the dark water below. 

It was _very_ cold. He'd expected that. What he _hadn't_ expected was that the water _burned_. It felt like acid on his bare skin and it intensified until he couldn't bear it any more and he had to cry out -- which exposed whole new bits of him to the caustic liquid. He choked, his arms and legs moving in the reflexive pattern of a swimmer trying to find the surface. 

Suddenly, his head broke the surface. Coughing and sputtering, he gasped for air greedily. Then he opened his eyes, blinking back the drops of water dripping off his hair. 

He was still at the bottom of the cave. The burning of the water had faded to a sort of tingly fizzing. He felt around with a foot. There wasn't any solid ground beneath him. He was... treading water? 

Zel concentrated, bringing back his light spell. Under the dim glow, he slowly raised a hand to his face, examining it. Even with the poor lighting, there could be no doubt. Brushing back the hair out of his face only confirmed it. Zel found himself smiling, a wide, genuine smile, and not the little half-grin he was more prone to. "I don't believe it..." he said softly, his voice echoing off the cavern walls. "It worked. It actually worked!" He almost laughed out of sheer surprise and joy. Imagine that one of the endless leads he had been following had panned out. Zel lay back in the water, fighting back the fear that he would sink. It was an amazing feeling, floating. He had forgotten what it was like to not worry about sinking in water. He kept glancing at his now-human body, trying to reassure himself that it wasn't a trick of the light, or a dream, or that he had actually drowned and this was the afterlife. "I just don't believe it," he kept repeating. "If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up. It would be torture after this." 

He shivered a bit in the chilly water, which reassured him that he was most certainly alive and conscious. _As wonderful as this is, I better get out and put my clothing back on. It's not like I'll change back if I get out and dry off._ Of course, it was hard to say with his luck, but there was no point to a cure if he froze to death sitting in a pool of icy water. Even if it did, the water would give him a starting point to make a more permanent version. Besides, who had ever heard of a healing spring that only worked as long as the subject was sitting in it? "You're being paranoid, Zel," he chided himself. "I finally get a break... a huge break, and I'm already looking for the dark cloud in the silver lining."

Not this time. This was surely a sing that his luck was changing for the better. And he felt like he could believe this time that nothing bad really was going to happen to him. 

He didn't want to trust the wall again, so he would have to magic himself out. "_Levitation_!" He levitated himself to the entrance of the chamber and picked up his bag. _What did I keep in here, rocks?_ He stumbled a bit, trying to restore his center of balance. Once he felt like he was ready, he took a step. 

And fell on his face. _What's going on here?_ Zel struggled to get to his hands and knees. His body seemed sluggish and unresponsive, and his arms and legs wavered under the weight of his body. He felt so... so weak. And cold... he didn't remember the cave being this drafty, nor the floor being this cold. He shivered, the motion nearly causing his arms to buckle. 

_Is this because I was so used to my chimeric strength and speed? _He didn't remember being nearly this weak as a human. He certainly would have had no trouble walking back then. 

Zel shivered again, and, fearing he actually would fall, shifted himself into a seated position. He opened his bag, removing a towel, dried himself off and dressed. The fabric of his tunic and pants was very rough against his skin, making him regret all of the times he saved a couple of coins by choosing coarser cloth. It hadn't bothered him when he had the stone skin, but he would have to invest in a new set of clothing if he wanted to be able to wear it comfortably for any period of time. 

Zel then picked up his sword. _How the hell did I manage to fight with this damn thing?_ He remembered being able to swing it nearly-effortlessly. Now, he could barely pick it up. Well, until he could get outside and take his hatchet to a branch or something, the sheathed sword would have to do as a makeshift walking stick. Zel closed his back, and, leaning heavily on the sword's hilt, he laboriously made his way to his feet. 

After a few near-falls, he managed to make it to the cave entrance. He blinked in the bright sunlight, trying to let his eyes adjust from the gloom of the cave. He made a note of the sun's position. It was already after noon. _I better hurry if I want to make it back to town before nightfall._ And to move that quickly over rough terrain in his condition, he would need a walking stick. 

It took him a bit of walking, more near-falls, and a painful encounter with a bramble bush that he didn't notice until he walked into it, but he finally found a tree branch suitable for a makeshift cane. He set to work, taking out the hatchet he used for chopping firewood. It was slow going. The hatchet wasn't that heavy -- though certainly heavier than he remembered -- but it seemed like every swing only deepened the cut by a tiny amount. 

"Well, well, what do we have here? Some woodcutter's apprentice?" 

Zel sighed. The voice was speaking with the sort of arrogant tone of a bandit who thought the ability to state the obvious and parrot his old boss's one-line comebacks made him witty. Zel turned around. Well, it was a group of bandits, all right -- about a dozen of them. They had circled him, with the speaker -- a large, dark-haired man with a shortsword drawn and a number of daggers tucked into his belt -- further forward, directly in front of Zel. Several other gang members had crossbows pointed at him. He cursed. How the hell did these losers sneak up on him? He was used to hearing even the lightest of footfalls, and now he had missed a group of people who probably had been stomping right up to him. 

"Listed, kid," the bandit leader continued speaking, "no need to draw yer sword. We're just gonna help ourselves to some of yer good fortune." He grinned as one of his followers stepped out of the circle and appropriated Zel's bag. 

_Options, options..._ well, there weren't many. He didn't think he could draw his sword without getting peppered by crossbow bolts, and a fire spell would just set the dry brush ablaze. But maybe a different kind of spell would be quick enough to cast... 

"_Digger Volt_!" Zel felt the magical energy surge up within him, flowing easily to his outstretched hand at first, then with more and more difficulty, until it seemed like there was nothing left in the rest of him. But, still, his hand wasn't doing anything more than sparkling a bit. No way he could produce the spell's lightning. Eventually, the power snapped back to his body, causing him to take a step back. 

The bandit gang, as one man, burst out laughing. Zel felt his ears burn. It was a simple spell. He had cast it hundreds of times before. It should have worked. There was no reason it would _not_ work! 

"Quit yer playactin', boy." The bandit leader gave Zel an annoyed look. "This isn't a game of pretend. Now, are you gonna try another silly trick or are you gonna be sensible?" 

Zel seethed. Here he had survived meeting several of the Big Bads of the universe, and he was getting insulted by bandits? The nerve of them! The worst part was that not only were they not defeated yet, they were laughing at him! They wouldn't be doing that if he were still a chimera -- they'd be afraid of him, then. _So this is why Lina gets so pissy about being called a kid._Freeze Arrow!" He felt the weaker spell go off flawlessly, causing the bandit leader to jump back and curse. The bandit leader gestured, and Zel heard the sound of crossbow fire. 

Pain lanced up his leg, causing him to cry out and lose his balance. He turned his head to figure out where the pain was coming from and discovered a crossbow bolt embedded in his leg. Zel struggled not to throw up -- the sheer amount of pain was making his stomach turn, and the sight of the wound was not helping. He couldn't take his eyes off of it -- a red stain was starting to color the tan of his pant leg now. He thought he heard the bandit leader say something about a warning shot, but he just couldn't focus. He felt lightheaded, and things were starting to get fuzzy. 

On his first day as a human being in over five years, Zelgadis Greywords passed out, surrounded by bandits. 


End file.
